


Long Day

by Stayawhile



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-12
Updated: 2012-04-12
Packaged: 2017-11-03 13:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stayawhile/pseuds/Stayawhile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two moments of clarity, followed by an exhausted conversation.</p><p> </p><p>Set immediately after <i>The Siege, Part 3.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Day

John stretched out on his too-small bed, letting out a long sigh. He recognized the signs of an adrenaline crash all too well. It wasn’t unexpected. The last few days had blurred into one long buzz of desperation, the imperative to _save the city, save Atlantis, keep them safe_ drumming in his head. 

He had relaxed only once, after he had climbed into the jumper and laid in a course for the hive ship, knowing what he had to do, that he could do it, that it would work. He was going to die, and that was all right. He’d known since he’d enlisted, that was the job—you try to kill the enemy, they try to kill you, and sometimes they succeed. He had never expected to get old and retire with a row of medals on his chest. All he’d really wanted was for his death to mean something, to die for a worthy purpose. 

In the jumper he’d had that. One brief, pure moment of satisfaction with his life.

Then he was on the _Daedalus_ and it had started all over again. Another crisis, another wave of hive ships, another meeting where certain death had come up against Rodney McKay’s snapping fingers and “Shut up, I have an idea.” Another crisis, another round of hope/terror/hope/despair, ridiculous ideas born out of fear and rage, until finally they had hidden the city under a jury-rigged cloak and a mushroom cloud, and the Wraith had gone away. At least for now.

Ford, lost and found and gone through the gate in some kind of Wraith-induced madness.

Fuck, he was exhausted. 

The slow drop into sleep had just begun when the banging started. John sat up with a jolt, his hand immediately reaching for the sidearm strapped to his thigh. A moment later he realized that the banging noise was someone knocking on the door. Falling back with a groan, he considered ignoring it. If it was another crisis—if the Wraith were back—they’d use the radio, right? 

The knocking didn’t stop, so he raised his head and called, “enter.” If it wasn’t damned important, whoever came in was due an ass-kicking. Just as soon as he felt up to it. Maybe he could delegate the ass-kicking to the Marines?

Rodney McKay stepped into the room. He looked about as healthy as John felt, but he was bouncing on his toes, nervously, running one hand over his stubbled chin. John sat up, despite loud protests issued by every muscle in his body. “McKay?” 

“Sorry, um, were you sleeping? I don’t want to—I mean, I want—I can come back? I’m just—I’ve been on stims for I don’t know, days, and Carson won’t put me under, stupid sheep-shagger wants them to clear out of my system naturally, something about strain on the heart, he is getting ice-cold showers for at least six months—“

“As long as you’re not here to tell me there’s a new fleet of hive ships coming, we’re good,” John interrupted. He raised an eyebrow. “You’re not, are you?”

“No, that ‘s not what I’m here to—no. Hive ships all gone.” McKay ran a hand through his hair, which was already disheveled and sticking out in about seventeen different directions. He sat heavily in the desk chair, took a deep breath and let it out.

John waited. Unexpectedly, McKay didn’t start babbling again, instead staring at the floor. One of his knees was bouncing, a steady rapid rhythm. He seemed unaware of it. 

After a few minutes, John said, “So, what _did_ you come here to tell me, McKay?” 

The restless beat of Rodney’s leg stilled. Without raising his head, he said quietly, “I came here to tell you I’m mad at you.” 

“Mad?” Mad, but not yelling, that was different. Maybe it would make more sense if he wasn’t so tired. 

Rodney’s voice sharpened. “That’s what I said, Major Deathwish. You just took off in that jumper with a nuclear bomb aboard. A bomb I _made_ , and you were just going to go out there and die like a big stupid hero and I…” Rodney trailed off, staring at John, his eyes set deep in dark, weary circles, unreadable. “I can’t…”

“Well, technically, the Genii built the bomb. And I didn’t die.” John reached up, rubbing the back of his neck, wondering what the hell was going on in Rodney’s head.

“Technically, that’s not the point!” And there was the Rodney he knew. “The point is—“ Rodney shook his head. “I’m not good at this. I’ve never been able to do this, I always fuck it up. Okay. Okay.” 

John leaned forward, both hands on his own knees. “Look, McKay, I’m sorry. We just—we ran out of time, and I had to. I couldn’t let them take the city, not when I could do something. You know that. Believe me, I didn’t want to, I just didn’t have any other choice.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Rodney’s voice dropped. “I’m not as brave as you. You were going to go out there and die, and save us all. I never could have done it.”

John thought about this. It sounded all wrong to him. Rodney had been the one who saved them—several times, in fact. He’d used his hands and his brain to do impossible things, every time it had seemed hopeless he had gotten angry and determined and fierce and found them a way to stay alive a little longer.

“But I didn’t do that,” he heard himself say. “I didn’t die, and I didn’t save us.” I failed, he thought, but didn’t say that aloud. “You saved us.”

“Yes, yes, I was brilliant, I do my best work under pressure, whatever. Believe it or not, that’s not the point either.” Rodney stood and began to pace.

“Look, I thought you were dead. I thought I would never—there were so many things I hadn’t said to you, and now you’d never hear them because you were dead, you were dead, and you would never, ever know. Stupid, I was stupid and I should have said something but I’m not like you, I’m a coward and I know it. It was the worst moment of my life, and trust me, there’s plenty of competition for that title.” 

_I should have told you too,_ John thought. It hadn’t taken him long to recognize the loneliness behind Rodney’s bluster and contempt. It wasn’t his way, but he understood how hard Rodney worked to avoid letting anyone get close. 

“You can tell me now, Rodney,” he said quietly. “If you want to.” 

Rodney sat down heavily in the chair again, and rubbed his eyes. “I probably don’t. But that’s what I came here to do.” He sat up, and there was that look again, the one he’d worn throughout the siege. Determination battling with fear, and winning. His hands were trembling, John noticed. The stims were probably starting to wear off.

“I wanted to tell you how much you meant to me. About how having you for a friend—a best friend—was pretty much the best thing in my life, possibly ever. My work had always been everything, the most important thing, and here I was doing the most amazing work of my life, and it was still you.” 

John licked his lips. “I knew that, Rodney,” he said. “I knew.” 

“Wait, just—I’m not finished yet. There was something else.” Rodney paused, and John waited, wanting to give Rodney all the time he needed, all the time he had to give.

“I also wanted—I wanted you to know that if you wanted more than this—more than our friendship, and trust me, that’s enough, that’s more than I ever really thought I’d have—but if you wanted this, us, to be more. Well. I’d want that too. I mean I do. Want you. It’s okay if you don’t, I’m pretty sure you don’t, and I hope you still like me, but if you’re going to do stupid hero crap and get yourself killed, you should know that somebody loved you the way you ought to be loved. You deserve to know.”

John wanted to say something, but none of the words he knew were big enough. He thought about Rodney, terrified and resolute and oh, so fucking brave, smarter than anyone, and maybe as alone as John had always felt. 

Except not. Not anymore.

Rodney’s shoulders were trembling. He stood up, looking toward the door, saying “I guess I’d better—” John stood to stop him, quickly, and then Rodney caught him as he swayed, stumbled and almost fell. 

“Here, here, sit down, are you all right?” Rodney’s hands were large and warm, helping John sit down on the bed again. “Should I call Beckett?” 

John reached out and pulled Rodney to sit beside him on the bed. “No, no, I’m fine. I just got dizzy for a minute. Just give me a sec, okay?”

“Sure, whatever you need.” 

How many times had Rodney said those exact words to John? Whatever he needed, Rodney would give him, even wanted to give him. All he had to do was accept it.

“Don’t call yourself a coward. You’re the bravest man I know,” he whispered. “The way you can just _say_ things.” He turned toward Rodney, leaning his head into the curve where Rodney’s neck met his shoulder, feeling the minute tremors of the other man’s body, taking a deep breath and breathing in the scent of his friend, his best truest friend and yes, oh yes. “Yes,” he murmured. “I want that. More. You.”

“Really?” Rodney’s voice was tiny and incredulous. “Because—God, I’m so tired, John, I hope this isn’t just something I’m dreaming.” 

John let out an enormous yawn. “It’s been a long day. Long week, whatever.” He moved back on the bed, tugging at Rodney until they were lying together, John’s feet hanging off the end of the bed and his head on Rodney’s chest, feeling the beating of his heart. “Really. You can sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up. I’ll be here.” 

“John,” murmured Rodney, reaching up a hand to stroke John’s hair, his neck. The hand dropped heavily, and the next thing John heard was a small snore.

It was easy to close his eyes, to drift away in the comfort of Rodney’s arms, his solid warmth. Whatever happened when they woke up, Rodney would be here, and they would keep saving each other, from everything.


End file.
